


Precaution

by Cameron_McKell



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Mild Blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 19:34:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cameron_McKell/pseuds/Cameron_McKell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An attempt is made on Tony's life, and Steve goes a bit overboard in response, then the tables are turned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Precaution

**Author's Note:**

  * For [missbecky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbecky/gifts).



Apparently, Tony was just going to have bad luck with speeches anymore.

 

Not that he was particularly _fond_ of giving them or anything, but it would be nice to at least be _able_ to give one without inciting national panic, bringing about massive property damage, or getting one of his best friends hospitalized.

 

Admittedly, that last one was new.

 

* * *

 

 

“You're overreacting, Steve.”

 

“They found a _remote-controlled gas canister_ in the _microphone,_ Tony. It started venting right when you took the podium. If they hadn't had to switch the mic out because of that electrical short you could have _died._ ” Steve folded his arms across his chest, but just couldn't settle, so he resorted to shifting his weight from one foot to the other, still on high alert, even hours after he'd gotten the call about an attempt on Tony's life.

 

“Yeah, yeah. I still remember the whole 'odorless and colorless' speech from earlier. It's not a big deal.” Tony waved a hand dismissively, and Steve's arms dropped to his sides in shock.

 

“' _Not a big deal'?_ How can you even _say_ that?”

 

Tony shrugged. “I would have heard the hiss of the escaping gas. The whole thing was pretty clever, sure, but even clever people can't circumvent the laws of physics. Unless they're me. Sometimes.” He paused for a moment, considering the opportunities for defying the principles governing how the world worked, then shook himself back into the present. “Anyway, adding any sort of muffler to the sprayer would have made it too big to fit under the microphone cover, so it would have been easy enough to catch it in the act and step away from the mic. That stuff broke down fast enough I wouldn't even have had to move that far away; the wiring guy only got queasy because he'd been in a small room with the thing for a good hour checking the cables. If it had been in a more ventilated space he'd have been free of even that much.”

 

“Exactly!” Steve threw his hands up in the air and paced away, before pacing right on back into the supposed genius's personal space. “The presentation room was a _lot_ bigger, so the only one that would've gotten exposed was you, and how do you figure you'd have heard the hiss of pressurized gas over all the people, and the questions? Even the _lights_ can be loud enough to cover up sounds in a room that large.” He settled his hands on Tony's shoulders for a moment, and only _just_ stopped himself from shaking the infuriating man. “Tony,” he waited until the man in question was looking him in the eye before continuing. “Someone tried to kill you, today. Someone that's still at large, and likely to try again. Call off the rest of the presentations, at least until we catch this guy – or girl. The point is, it's a completely unnecessary ri-”

 

“'Unnecessary risk'?” Tony gave Steve his best unimpressed stare, then noticed that Steve's hands were still curled around his shoulders; Steve noticed the direction of his stare and immediately let go, mildly embarrassed.

 

“I don't know if you've noticed, _Captain_ -,” and Steve winced internally at being addressed by his title; clearly, he'd said the wrong thing. “but my life – all our lives, really – are full of risks. There are at least thirty things in this room that can kill me within fifteen minutes, _excluding_ the armor, and that's just the workshop.”

 

Steve made a sort of high-pitched, distressed sound, and that wasn't the sort of reaction Tony had been looking for, so he continued. “I'm a big boy, Steve; I can take care of myself. It doesn't matter which suit I'm wearing.”

 

“I _know_ all that, but...” Steve trailed off with a little sigh, and rubbed the back of his neck. He took several steps back and looked away, to the disorganized heap of proprietary documentation that Steve had had to 'rescue' from a date with a police evidence locker at Tony's insistence. “Couldn't it wait an extra week while we hunt down your would-be murderer?”

 

Tony shook his head forcefully, then it was his turn to step into Steve's personal space. “You heard the statistics earlier: four people dying every hour because no one bothered fixing this problem before. There's 168 hours in a week, Steve; that's 672 people. This new venture can stop all of that, but for that to happen, people have to _know about it_. I _have_ to do this, Steve. Please understand that.”

 

Steve blew out a breath and stared at the floor for a long while, before finally giving in, “I understand.” He tilted his head up just enough to peer at Tony, and his voice firmed. “Okay, then...”

 

Tony smiled, relieved. Steve was always the hardest sell on 'issues' like this, so if he was onboard already, the rest of the team would be-

 

“... I'll just have to be your protection.” Steve concluded resolutely.

 

Wait, _what_?

 

While Tony tried to get his brain and mouth cooperating with each other again, Steve took the advantage that his open-mouthed speechlessness provided to start requesting copies of Tony's schedule, and what security measures were in place for the speech earlier from JARVIS.

 

“What?” Tony finally managed to get out, but couldn't help wondering _where_ this was coming from.

 

“You're bound and determined to borrow trouble on this,” Steve started, and waved away Tony's attempt to explain himself _again_. “And I understand that. I _do._ You need to keep your eyes on your goal. So... I'll keep my eyes on everything else for you.”

 

Steve shifted in place again, and Tony realized just how close they were standing to each other; he stepped back, and was a bit shocked to find himself actually considering it. “You're going to have your hands full with the investigation, you don't need to worry about me on top of-”

 

“Don't worry about me,” Steve interrupted. “This is sort of part of the investigation, anyway. Besides, I'm good at multitasking.” He smiled, then playfully nudged Tony as he walked past, toward the workshop door, significantly calmer now that he had a mission and a plan of action in mind; Tony made an exaggerated stumble at the contact, even though he'd barely felt it, and turned to watch Steve go. “I'll look everything over, and log any changes with JARVIS. Night, Tony.”

 

“Uh, yeah; sure.” Tony replied distractedly to Steve's retreating back. The whole thing still sounded like a waste of the Captain's time, but Tony could admit to himself that the concern for his well-being was touching. Knowing Steve, he'd probably end up worrying and clucking over him anyway, so he might as well give him an outlet for it. Tony didn't want to jinx himself, but really, how bad could it be?

 

* * *

 

 

Tony was about three 'precautions' away from murdering Steve.

 

Or locking him in a supply closet and conveniently 'forgetting' the key in his other suit.

 

In Malibu.

 

It started with little things, sensible things. Steve arranged for extra security personnel to be assigned to each event, increased the restrictions on who was allowed backstage, things like that. During the speeches and the time both before and after, Steve was on top of things, dressed up like just another member of security so he could oversee and coordinate all their efforts, and keep an eye out for suspicious packages or shifty strangers. The rest of the time, the good Captain was focused on the investigation side of things, running down leads and examining evidence and such. Some of the extra security measures were a little annoying, sure, but overall it seemed to be going well.

 

Two events went off without a hitch, then there was The Lunch Incident.

 

The whole group had been on-site since early in the morning, so Tony had ordered in sandwiches for everyone from his favorite deli. Steve had tracked him down to discuss the possible motive of a business rival just as the food arrived via background-checked gofer – also known as a SHIELD junior agent – so Tony mashed the two things together into an impromptu lunch meeting.

 

In hindsight, when having lunch with the man that had taken it upon himself to be personally responsible for his safety, the first words out of Tony's mouth after taking the first bite of his sandwich _probably_ shouldn't have been “Something's wrong.”

 

It also didn't help that he immediately followed that with, “This tastes funny.”

 

Under the circumstances at the time – the open investigation about someone trying to kill Tony, the protection detail stationed all around the building they were in to protect Tony, the very real vulnerabilities Tony had outside of the suit, and so on – Steve interpreted this as a poisoning attempt, and promptly _flipped out_.

 

After a lot of shouting, a surprising amount of panic, two blood tests, three tox screens, five interrogations, a broad-spectrum analysis, and one very, _very_ ruined lunch, it turned out that Tony got his sandwich mixed up with someone else's.

 

It explained why the sandwich tasted funny, at least; he'd been expecting provolone, and gotten swiss cheese instead.

 

It was a simple mistake, really.

 

Unfortunately, it marked a turning point in Steve's behavior.

 

He started personally escorting Tony everywhere. Even in previously deemed 'safe' zones like the Tower and the heart of Tony's Stark Industries buildings, Steve was right behind him. Under normal circumstances Steve was a fun guy to hang out with, and Tony probably wouldn't have minded the shadowing, but the charming dork he'd once caught trying to stir pictures into his 'fruit on the bottom' yogurt had been almost completely replaced with the stoic war strategist who was growing steadily more grim and suspicious the longer Tony's unknown attacker remained at large.

 

Trusting in people seemed to have almost completely left Steve's vocabulary; he'd even given _Pepper_ the stink eye when she'd pulled Tony aside to discuss some particularly delicate S.I. business. Tony was fairly sure the only reason he trusted the rest of the security team as much as he did was because he was simply incapable of doing everything himself.

 

That wasn't to say he didn't _try_ , though. The only times that Tony was truly free of Steve was when the super soldier was absent _just_ long enough to whip together something edible and _verified_ poison-free. He even waited outside the bathroom whenever Tony had business in there, as if someone was going to crawl in the window and stab him or something. Not so keen on the thought of super-hearing listening in on him doing his business, Tony had taken to whistling – or humming, if he was brushing his teeth or shaving – to cover up any other noises; it worked twofold: to save the both of them from embarrassment, and in the event that there ever actually _was_ a crazy waiting to pounce him in the urinal, the sudden silence would work to catch Steve's attention.

 

It also gave Tony the illusion of being in charge of his life.

 

And it was _definitely_ an illusion at this point.

 

Groaning as pitifully as he could, Tony attempted to burrow back under his blankets only to remember, yeah, Steve had already snatched those up off the bed.

 

“Just kill me now...”

 

“Not happening, Tony. Come on, time to get up,” Steve replied with a feeble attempt at good humor that probably won't last through breakfast.

 

“What time is it?” Tony conceded defeat with an ugly grimace, then heaved himself out of bed and in the general direction of the bathroom.

 

“So early no one would be expecting you to be heading out for your speech yet.” Steve replied to the closing door, while JARVIS relayed something a bit more precise to Tony, who promptly started humming 'Enter Sandman' as a vague dig at Steve and the long, long wait ahead of them to see the sun.

 

Tony finished his morning routine with his eyes mostly shut, then shuffled back into the room just in time for Steve to steer him away from the bed – foiled again – and toward his closet. The scent of leather and expensive cologne helped wake Tony up some, so he gracefully nosedived into his suits. At least Steve was still letting him dress himself. “Coffee?” Tony asked with the hope of a person prepared to be disappointed while trying to wrangle sleep-clumsy fingers into buttoning french cuffs.

 

Steve waved over to a travel mug waiting by Tony's wallet and an awful pair of cheap sunglasses. “Cinnamon roast with honey, sorry.”

 

Tony swallowed down an aggravated sigh and emerged from the closet, “It's still coffee, at least.” When this whole ordeal was over, Tony was totally going to buy enough of the deepest, darkest roast he could find to fill a swimming pool; purposefully acting out of character was a _pain_.

 

Steve waited until about half of the coffee was gone, and Tony was fully in the land of the living, before passing over the wallet and crappy sunglasses, then picking up his bag, which likely held his uniform and shield, and enough emergency kits to weather the apocalypse. “We need to get moving.”

 

“Yeah, yeah...” Tony stowed the wallet and glared at the truly _terrible_ sunglasses; he was about to argue the point, when Steve gave him a Look – 20% pleading, 80% stubbornness, and 100% exhausted; it was a supersaturated solution to avoid wasting time bickering – and Tony defiantly hooked them into his suit jacket's pocket. He'd put them on before they left the Tower, and Steve knew it, so he could rebel while they were still inside.

 

“It's just a safety precaution,” Steve droned habitually, shoulders slumped, following Tony out of the bedroom toward the kitchen. The fake-chipper attitude hadn't even made it to breakfast today; a new record. Much of Tony's early morning grouchiness fizzled down at just how _tired_ Steve sounded.

 

Because Steve was dedicated to accompanying Tony everywhere, and probably caught up on his _own_ work when he should be sleeping.

 

Because Steve only ate when Tony did, which was less than a quarter as often as his body demanded.

 

Because Steve always had a half dozen contingency plans for each movement and action they took, and all of them were prioritized for Tony's safety.

 

Because Steve was starving and utterly exhausted, but _still_ a force to be reckoned with.

 

The attention was suffocating – almost unbearably so – but it also showed Tony that their friendship was something Steve viewed as precious, and worth protecting.

 

And Tony could _sort of_ understand some of Steve's reasoning on the 'precautions'; if their places were reversed –

 

Steve interrupted Tony's woolgathering by placing a freshly made, Steve-approved smoothie into his hand and nudging him toward the elevator. Tony hesitated only long enough to see Steve grab up some for himself, then dutifully trudged into the elevator, toward the garage.

 

While the box slowly descended, Steve shifted his bag to one shoulder so he could pull something out of it. “Put this on.”

 

Tony shifted the smoothie to his far hand so he could take the article of clothing – a coat – and look it over. If one were generous, the coat could have been called a puffy, abstract-print parka; Tony was not feeling very generous toward the coat, so he mentally labeled it a 'lumpy, paint-splattered monstrosity'.

 

Tony Stark wouldn't be caught dead in something like that, and it matched the terrible sunglasses perfectly.

 

“I hate my life.”

 

“It's just a pre-”

 

“Shut up, I know.”

 

Tony sighed, then saw to slipping into his disguise while juggling smoothie – though a little spill could hardly _hurt_ that thing – while Steve ravenously gulped down his smoothie, and got a little bit of his energy back.

 

Hopefully they could catch a nap once they got there, or something.

 

* * *

 

 

“No, Steve.”

 

“Tony –”

 

“ _No._ We've talked about this before; I _will_ _not_ wear the Iron Man suit for the presentation.” Tony snarled, and only _just_ kept himself from stomping his foot, or kicking Steve in the shin. Or higher. “It doesn't send the right kind of message when combined with the presentation, and I'm not about to let a gaggle of low-budget reporters twist my message.”

 

Steve was dressed in his Captain America uniform with the cowl back – he'd taken to wearing it after The Lunch Incident as a sort of added deterrent – and was much more alert after his accidental nap earlier. Although tired himself, Tony had behaved when Steve had slumped over on the waiting room couch, texting Pepper some feedback about the facility that was their current venue, arranging for a brief meeting after the presentation, and other official business instead of running away to freedom.

 

Imagining the sort of pandemonium Steve would have caused if he'd woken to discover Tony was _missing_ might have played a role in his decision-making process.

 

Tony wasn't feeling _nearly_ so charitable, anymore. The extra sleep seemed to have given Steve new energy for his list of 'precautions', including wearing the suit while at the podium; Tony was actually a bit surprised Steve hadn't tried suggesting an LMD take the stand yet, but Captain Yesterday probably didn't know they existed.

 

“Then at least have one waiting closer, or something. _Please._ ” Steve pinched the bridge of his nose for a long moment, as if he were staving off a headache, then let his hand drop back to his side. “I know, _I_ _ **know**_ this whole thing seems unnecessary to you, but this is the second-to-last presentation you have to give; there's a lot more media coverage scheduled for the final presentation, which means a higher chance of getting caught, which means that if they're going to hit another presentation, it'll be this one. Then you can relax in the Tower while I finish up the investigation, and everything can go back to normal.”

 

“Forget confining me to the Tower like some generic damsel in distress, once this is all done I'll bring the nut-job in myself.” Tony locked Steve into a staring contest/battle of wills, and poked him right in the star to drive his next point home. “I'll move a suit closer in case of emergencies because I admit that could be prudent, but I am _not_ an object to be locked away for safekeeping, I am a superhero, and your teammate, and your _friend_. Right?”

 

Steve looked vaguely horrified for a moment, “Of _course_ you're my friend, Tony; you're probably my _best_ friend in this entire crazy time. It just seems like sound planning to me to keep the suspect's target out of reach, as a precaution-”

 

“I have _had it_ with that word!” Tony exploded. He flailed around for a moment, then clenched his hands in Steve's uniform and _shook him_. “Do you realize how many times you've said that word recently? And you're not even usually a cautious guy!”

 

“I haven't-”

 

“You _have_! I thought Captain America was supposed to be _brave,_ Steve. What's turned you into this paranoid lump of nerves and inexhaustible contingency plans? _What's_ _gotten_ _into_ _you_?”

 

“You!” Steve interrupted, and jerked out of Tony's suddenly-confused hands.

 

“Me?”

 

“Yes, you! You're all I think about, even before, and the thought of someone trying to kill you just _burns me up_ , because the future without you is colorless, so if I can do something to keep you safe and in this world longer, then, well... I'll do it.” Steve stumbled to a close, wide-eyed and blushing. Tony stood there staring at him, while his mind tried to make sense of what he _thought_ he heard in that sentence. The silence stretched on a little too long, and Steve mumbled something about perimeter checks and fled.

 

Truly alone for the first time in what seemed like ages, Tony sat down into the nearest chair, and thought, long and hard, about Steve, and what he meant to him. _'If their places were reversed'..._

 

After the presentation, he and Steve needed to have a long, important talk.

 

* * *

 

 

After the presentation, there was no time to talk.

 

Steve had avoided making eye contact with Tony throughout the whole thing, but he still stood nearby, so hopefully it was just a matter of embarrassed shyness instead of real regret.

 

It was a lucky thing too, that Steve was close enough to see the reflection of light off the scope before the would-be assassin took their shots, just as Tony finished with 'Thank you for your time'.

 

“Get down!” Captain America yelled and sent Tony flying backstage with a shove. He bounced slightly – that was going to leave a mark – then landed in a heap of limbs behind the added safety of an additional wall. One portion of the room's skylight shattered under the force of sniper bullets whose target had already been moved, raining glass and accumulated snow build-up on the panicked, scattering audience.

 

There was a second, louder crash, and Tony turned just in time to watch Cap's shield sailing through the now-broken second skylight, then he was scrambling to his feet, and into the newly-arrived armor; the shorter deployment distance _was_ helpful.

 

He rocketed up through the skylights – and the last one broke as he passed, probably his fault – and traced the shield's trajectory, and found the sniper. She looked to be around fifteen, and dressed in winter camouflage gear that blended in fairly well with the rooftop, if only her violently orange hair wasn't like a beacon on the snowy rooftop.

 

She was also out cold, with the shield lightly embedded into the flimsy metal duct-work behind her.

 

“Nice aim, Cap.” he remarked, half impressed and half disappointed. Steve didn't dignify his commentary with a response, but that wasn't exactly surprising; they hadn't really talked yet.

 

A bit miffed that he couldn't really subdue the kid any further and actually _contribute_ to the whole encounter, Tony took his time retrieving the shield and binding the girl's limbs. When a few of the SHIELD agents appeared on the roof, he took off, descending back down through the broken skylights to the hastily-evacuated presentation area. There didn't seem to be anything for him to do here, either, so he turned to go.

 

The sight up by the podium froze him in his tracks.

 

The whole area was covered in a fine layer of snow. In stark contrast to the white of the snow, Steve's Captain America uniform looked _intensely_ blue...

 

… and the pool of blood spreading out from underneath his unnaturally still body was deeply, distressingly red.

 

He was running before the action even registered.

 

“I need a medic _yesterday_!” One of the SHIELD agents had to have medical training, surely.

 

Tony gingerly turned Steve onto his back, absently grateful for the greater strength the suit gave him, and wracked his brain for any first aid knowledge he had; this wasn't how it was supposed to go, he was supposed to be heading home with Steve so they could actually have that talk.

 

Was this what Steve had felt like when they'd tried to gas Tony, before?

 

Finally, a medical team arrived on the scene, and started rushing Steve to the hospital. Tony was hot on their heels the whole way there, because he had to do something to keep Steve safe while he was vulnerable. Steve would be okay, he had to be, because the world would be flat and gray without Steve in it, and the thought of someone _killing_ him burnt Tony up from the inside.

 

_'If their places were reversed.'_

 

So, Steve would survive – because Tony wasn't accepting any alternatives on that – and then it would be Tony's turn to look after him while he got better.

 

* * *

 

 

The first thing Steve saw when he opened his eyes was Tony staring back at him.

 

“Okay, first thing,” Tony began, waving a tablet computer through the air. “I've redesigned your suit to give you better protection against high-velocity rounds. As a Precaution.”

 

Tony smiled at him, then. After hesitating a moment, Steve smiled back.

 

“Second thing, I think there's a conversation overdue between the two of us.” Some measure of his inner panic must have been showing on his face, because Tony reached out to cover one of Steve's hands, and gently squeezed it.

 

Steve squeezed back.


End file.
